Your name like dusk And mine, like dawn. One, the end of a new beginning, The other, the beginning of a certain end. In-between, the light of day affords a glimpse of an axiom, unseen through the covered lens of our separate sight. That there has not been a moment where our beginning and end has not been one and the same. So let these hands of mine, be your hands. They have been orphaned as you have been orphaned. They have bled as you have bled, They have ripened in the sunshine of your joy. So let them give back now that which they have taken. Let all that remains of them be yours from this day evermore.